


This One's for You

by magneticvibes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Quite literally actually, The smut comes eventually, bc why not, harry's really shy, punk!louis ow, submissive!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticvibes/pseuds/magneticvibes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry just really like Louis</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sitting on the couch with the soggy last of a bowl of cereal, Harry looked out his window at the brumous six o’clock sky and just felt morose. The minor thrill of starting his last year of high school had long since worn off. He should only be in year 10, but his stellar ability to solve triangles, his elysian poems, and his notorious knack for solving punnett squares has landed him right at the beginning of year 12 at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School. He had made sure to allow himself enough time to have a shower, get all of his school supplies in his backpack, having enough time to butter his toast and comb through his full head of dark curls. That was just how Harry was; he was meticulous about every single thing he did, no matter its simplicity.

Feeling soft hands come in contact with his shoulders, he turned around to see his mum with flushed cheeks and her work out clothes on. Harry smiled as he looked at his sweet mum, wanting to cuddle up to her with a cuppa in their hands, just talking about everything and nothing.

“I love you mum, you know that, yeah?” Harry asked.

“Harry, is this actually you talking or the other you that doesn’t want to go to school?” She questioned knowingly, not receiving an answer from her son, who was now standing up and staring at her with his doe eyes.

“No Harry, you’re not going to sucker me into letting you skip your first day of year 12, no way.”

“But mu-.”

“Hazza, darling, I know this is new for you, being surrounded by kids you don’t know, older kids that is. This is just a part of life, sweetie, sometimes you’re going to have to do things that you don’t want to do, but trust me, in the end it will all be worth it.” She said, giving him a grin that was so warm, he felt like he was being cooked on the stovetop.

“Thanks mum, that was sweet and everything, but it’s too early for me to feel any kind of motivation, so on that note, we should leave.”

Harry grabbed his new black pea coat off the coat hanger and shoved his long, skinny arms into the sleeves, then slung his backpack over his boxy shoulders and walked out the front door after his mum.

“What’s your first class?” His mum asked, disturbing the silence that Harry had been using to think. That’s just what Harry does. He could just think for hours upon hours, new thoughts leading to the next and then the next, creating a train of useless thoughts. His mom had describes him as a nefelibata, some Portuguese word that somehow got stuck in her head, waiting until she could find someone that was the personified version of the word, which ended up being Harry. She described him as a “cloud-walker”; someone that lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams. Harry didn’t want to be labeled though; he just wanted his own time with his thoughts, that’s all.

“Advanced English,” was all he said as he turned his head to look at all the neutral colors flying by in a whirl.

The car came to a stop not more than two minutes later, according to the timer in Harry’s brain, counting the seconds until they pulled up to the front of his school. _Ninety-three, ninety- four, ninety-five- here._

Harry opened the door, grabbed his backpack from the back seat, blew his mum a kiss and turned to walk into the school.

“Tell me if you see any cute boys!” His mum shouted from the car. Harry’s jaw might have dropped and he might have tripped on the curb that was so noticeably in front of him. His cheeks flushed as he continued on walking towards the entrance. He heard this sharp and high-pitched cackle followed by a deep chuckle off to his right. Harry was too busy with the hem of his sleeve to be worried about whom those laughs were directed towards.

 Ten minutes later, exactly, Harry had counted, he found himself in the back row of his English class, an empty seat to his right and talkative blonde boy to his left.

“Ey mate! What’s your name?” The blonde had asked, now directing his unwanted attention to Harry.

“M’ names Harry. What’s yours?” He asked, flashing a quick, friendly smile in the presumed Irish boys direction.

The blonde’s eyes brightened and his smile widened, making Harry smile.

“De’ names Niall.” He answered. “What grad-“

The bell interrupted Niall, dinging three times, Harry counted. The teacher sauntered to the front of the classroom, smiling through his thick beard at all of the students. Exactly a minute and thirteen seconds later, Harry counted, the door opened with a swing and in popped a cackling, tattoo-covered small, well smaller than Harry, boy. The teachers smiling face was wiped away almost instantaneously upon eye contact with the boy.

“Tomlinson! It’s only the first day of school and you’re already a minute late!”

_A minute and thirteen seconds,_ Harry corrected in his head.

“Sorry, Mr. Atkins, m’ locker wouldn’t open.” Tomlinson replied, not looking at the teacher, but scanning the room for an empty desk, eyes landing on the seat next to Harry’s, eyes drifting to meet the eyes of Harry, who was currently choking on the back of his tongue.

Tomlinson cracked a smile and strolled over to Harry’s right, plopped down in his seat and tossed his backpack carelessly off to the side.

Harry’s mind went fuzzy when Tomlinson shuffled his seat next to Harry’s and whispered softly into Harry’s right ear, calmly asking to borrow a pen. Harry nodded wide-eyed, reached into his backpack and grabbed a pen, handing it to Tomlinson who wore a shit eating grin on his face.

“Thanks!” He chirped as he stuck the pen in his mouth, biting the end and scooting his chair away from Harry’s.

Harry’s heart was trembling from the heat that remained on his right ear, the warmth traveling throughout his body, leaving him flushed and numb. He heard chuckles erupt from his left; Harry whipped his head over to the red-faced Niall who was gasping for air.

“Mate, you look like yer about to shit yer trousers!” Niall breathed out in a hushed tone, then giggling again at the sight of Harry’s mortified face. 

“I did not!” Harry argued.

Niall was still having a fit and Harry was frustrated because he wasn’t supposed to show how he was reacting on the inside. The blonde boy suddenly stopped laughing, eyes frozen.

A familiar warmth spread on Harry’s right ear.

“You did.” Tomlinson whispered, causing Harry’s breath to catch in his throat and his vision to blur. The smaller boy returned to his seat with a smirk on his face, all the way until the bell rang, releasing them to second period.

 

Harry’s day flew by quickly. He felt like he was on auto pilot, moving from class to class to class then to lunch and then class and class and class and now to his last class of the day, now sat to the right of Tomlinson, who was working on the survey that they had been handed twenty-four minutes ago, Harry counted. Every once in a while, when Harry’s head was down and his green eyes focused on the words on the page, Tomlinson would look up and admire the way Harry’s tousled curls fell around his head and somehow managed to look so indescribably picturesque. Tomlinson also noticed that when one of Harry’s curls fell in front of his eyes, Harry would ruffle the front of his head with both of his hands and then slide it to the side with his left hand.

When Louis wasn’t looking, Harry would peak through his curls, trying to be subtle about watching the way Tomlinson’s bicep would clench every time he moved down to the next line on his paper, making the black ink of a stag on his right arm look personified, moving for just a moment, and then falling silent on the tanned skin of his classmate.

“My names Harry.” He said suddenly, eyes widening for only 2 seconds, he counted, then returning back to normal size.

The smirk returned to Tomlinson’s face, wearing it like a medal.

“And my name’s Louis.” He responded in a high-pitched voice that made Harry’s ring. Louis coughed, trying to cough away his squeaky voice and with a calmer voice asked, “You’re not in my year are you?”

“Erm no, I should be in year ten, but I got real good marks and the classes got too easy, so I was moved up.” Harry responded, voice shaky.

“Well then Harry, welcome to hell, hard assignments and projects and all that shit you thought you had gotten rid of in year eleven!” Louis smirked and then turned back to the front of the room, leaving Harry wondering how long it would take for his heart rate to go back to normal.

_Ninety- one, ninety- two, ninety- three- normal._

 

“How was your first day, sweetie?” His mum asked as Harry plopped down next to his mom after throwing his backpack in the backseat.

“Fine.” He responded airily, not wanting the conversation to lead to the inevitable.

“Only fine, H? C’mon, you’ve got to give me something more than ‘fine’.” She prodded.

“Yes mum, it was fine, nothing interesting happened.” Harry responded.

His mum sighed and the car was filled with silence.

 

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo mum?” Harry asked curiously, thumbing the back of his wrist, where he had seen a glimpse of quotation mark tattoos on Louis skin.

“Harry I have one you know.” His mum chuckled.

“Since when have you had a tattoo mum? Aren’t you a bit too old to have one?” He asked, while staring at her with fake disgust in his expression.

“Harry! I have told you a million times about it, or maybe that was Gemma!” She stuck out her hand to show her son a small black ‘H’ stained onto the outer area of her wrist.

“This one’s for you.” She smiled and then looked back to the street in front of her.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Louis wears eyeliner.

Normally, this would be a turn off on Harry's part, but right now, he's sitting in class waiting for the bell to ring, wondering how someone could possibly look so appealing with their eyes rimmed with charcoal black lines. He also noticed the black polish painted on Louis nails and couldn't help but think about what Louis small hands look like wrapped around Harry's cock and what it would look like to see the nail polish shinin-

"Can I borrow another pen?" Louis asked Harry, whispering hotly into his right ear, once again, and Harry can't help but smirk because he pretended not to notice Louis just a few moments ago, shuffling into class and dropping the pen Harry had lent him the day before, right into the waste basket, then wandering over to his seat as if nothing had happened.

The smirk remained on Harry's face as he turned his head to Louis left ear.  
"I think you should be asking the waste basket, not me."   
Louis eyes widened momentarily and then he cracked a smile at Harry.

"You caught me Styles, but the pen actually exploded all over me last night while I was doing homework and I actually thought that you would be kind and considerate enough to loan me another one." Louis faked hurt, scrunching his arched eyebrows at Harry and Harry couldn't help but let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding.

"Well then Tomlinson, this is my last pen, so you better keep it safe." Harry replied while digging around in the front pocket of his backpack and then chucking the pen at Louis, who was now sitting down.

A month later, class went on and Harry and Louis still couldn't help but let their eyes linger on one another, but never at the same time. It's as if their brains knew when the other wasn't looking, it was telling them to look at the other, to take in every single bruise, bump and curve they had on their body.

Louis wears black.

Harry usually wouldn't go for the ones that would be into all of that dark and mysterious stuff, but somehow he was intrigued with Louis. Harry had been studying him like a book, but could never figure anything out besides the obvious fact that he looks so fuckable with ink-stained skin, eyeliner, black tank tops and those tight skinny jeans that barely seemed to stretch across his perfectly round arse. 

The bell rings three times and it takes Harry exactly twenty- seven seconds to get all of his things into his backpack and was apparently enough time for Louis to slip a piece of paper into Harry’s hand, and then saunter out of the classroom, swaying his hips in an unnecessary manner. 

Harry most certainly did not look at his bum.

Harry made sure not to open the note until he was in the deepest corner of his bedroom and under the biggest blanket he owned, for privacy reasons, obviously. He thumbed over the worn out, folded notebook paper, with the word ‘Harry’ scratched at the top, then slowly unfolded it, making sure not to tear. Harry’s heart was protruding through his mouth and pouring out. It just had one simple phrase, but it was enough for Harry to have his breath caught in his throat and beads of sweat trickling down the back of his neck, or maybe it was the blanket that caused that.

‘Meet me @ Manderville's Bakery, 2 Macclesfield Road at 6.  
-Louis’

Harry’s mouth hurt from smiling so wide, his teeth hurt from being clenched by the smile, his lips hurt from being stretched.

The young boy threw the blanket off from above him and leaped up from the dark corner. He wobbled into his closet, looking for an outfit to wear. It took him about a minute and twenty-two seconds; he counted, to realize he was just staring at his clothes, not even trying to decide what to wear. He heard rain patter on his window and let out a sigh. He suddenly felt really tired, so he just grabbed the thickest jumper he could find and his favourite pair of skinny jeans; he unbuttoned all the buttons on his button up and tossed it into his hamper, along with the jeans that he had just pried off his long legs. While putting on his jumper and wiggling into his impossibly tight jeans, his mom called out for him.

“Harry! Come down here and look at the telly!”

“Be right down mum!” He called, while shoving his curls into his favourite green beanie, then hopped down the stairs, counting sixteen of them, but he already knew there were sixteen, because he had counted them every single time he had gone up and down them. He hopped over the back of his couch and plopped down next to his mom who had simply frowned at him and shoved him playfully, and then directing her attention to the telly.

“Look at her models, H, she’s made it in the industry.” His mum said, and Harry could feel his heart swell. 

Gemma had moved to America three years and seventy-two days ago, Harry’s counting, to pursue her passion for fashion. Just this year, she had been offered to be a designer for the New York Fashion week show. Gemma was ecstatic on the phone when she had called their mum, squealing into the phone as Anne put her on speaker. Gemma was talking about how this would be her big break and how she had finally “made it.”   
Harry wished he could make his mom as proud as Gemma could.  
5:46 The clock on the microwave read  
“Shit mum! I’ve got to go somewhere.” Harry announced, jumping off of the couch and stumbling to the front door.  
“Hold it mister!” Anne proclaimed, standing up from the couch, wearing a sly smirk on her face. And oh god, Harry knew where this was going. “Where are you going?”  
“Mum please just let me leave! I’m going to be late, I promise to tell you later!”  
“Fine, run along Harry.” She smiled fondly. “I want to meet him.”  
Harry’s eyes widened as he turned on his heels and walked out the front door trying to forget those last words.  
Harry hates last words because they always get engraved into the back of his mind, staying there in his conscious waiting to rot. 

Harry thinks too much. 

Louis wears an apron.

Louis wears an apron?

“I’m guessing you work here” 

“Good guess Styles, you always were the smart one, always getting high marks and kissing the teachers arse.” Louis condescended, smirking at Harry. The older boy slapped his hands together, causing a puff of smoke to erupt and flutter to the ground. He shook out his hands, getting the remainder of the flour off. Harry obviously didn’t tell Louis about the flour smeared on his rosy cheeks or the flour peppered through his feathery fringe or the flour that dusted the tips of his eyelashes, because how could someone possibly disturb something that looked so angelic? 

“I do not! He’s not even cute.”

“I’m cuter right?” Louis asked, making his way over to Harry.

“Erm.. Well. Ye-yeah.” Harry stuttered while avoiding the humorous shine in Louis eyes.

“Lottie just made cupcakes.” Louis stated. “Come and have some.”   
Harry’s eyes met Louis and he felt like melting because that’s just what Louis eyes seemed to do. They were never ending shades of blue. Harry went doe eyed, nodded softly and followed Louis to the back of the café towards the kitchen. Harry peered through the door and made eye contact with a pretty little girl with big blue eyes staring right into his green ones.

“And who might this lovely young lady be?” Harry asked, even though he already knew.  
“M’ name’s Lottie! But I know your name’s Harry. Louis’ been talking no stop about you!” And then there’s Louis shoving her out of the kitchen.  
Harry just laughs and Louis’ cheeks might have flushed.   
“Anyways.” Louis states, “Lets have some cupcakes! I didn’t know which flavor would be your favourite, so I kinda made it all. I made chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, vanilla cake with chocolate frosting, there’s some strawberry ones over there, oh and red velvet right here and I ma-“ Louis was interrupted by a red velvet cupcake getting shoved in his mouth. Harry giggled and the swiped his index finger across Louis lips and then swirling it around in his mouth, dimples showing, Louis choking on air.  
Harry took his finger out of his mouth and innocently grabbed a vanilla cupcake and stared at Louis the whole entire time. The older boy just smirked and grabbed a cupcake for himself.  
“You’re gonna pay for that one curly.”   
“Mhhmm. Whatever you say Lou.”

They were like that for three hours and sixteen minutes, Harry had counted, just sitting there, talking about the cupcakes and everything and nothing at the same time.

Louis learned about Gemma and what she does.   
Louis learned that Harry’s parents were divorced.  
Louis learned that Harry’s curls are natural.  
Louis learned that Harry was six feet one, Harry had counted.

Harry learned about Fizzy, Lottie, Daisy and Phoebe.  
Harry learned that Louis parents were also divorced.  
Harry learned that Louis wears glasses.  
Harry learned that Louis was only five feet nine, Harry had counted.

They both learned that the other was gay.

That’s when they kissed.

Louis wears Harrys lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment and kudos please ily

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic, please be nice and comment and kudos.


End file.
